


Bon Appétit

by chandlerina



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chandlerina/pseuds/chandlerina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedelia sits silently at a dinner table. Her leg is beautifully cooked and ready to eat. This is what I think happened when the curtains closed on The Wrath of the Lamb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bon Appétit

The smile on his face was expected. When the taste of her skin, her flesh, her blood swirled around on his tongue, she thought that he would smile, and he did. Softly at first but then bigger, wider, into a grin almost as dark as his soul. He loved it, of course he did.

All this time, she had tried to escape him, to beat him in this race of life and death. Hoping that she might see him burn to ashes somewhere, somehow, but calmingly knowing all this time that he would be her defeater. It had just been a matter of when.

He sipped his red wine slowly, closing his eyes as if he was kissing someone, as if he was kissing her. Dark red grapes played tricks on his tongue and he hummed lightly. “We should have done this sooner, Bedelia,” he said, inspecting the piece of her that was horridly pierced on his fork. 

“Should we?” She said, sighed almost.

He hummed, chewing her slowly. She watched him through a daze of drugs, through a daze of pain and blood loss. She watched him devour her. It was in some ways poetic, the dark swallowing the light. The demon eating its prey. But she would have hoped for another ending.

When he finished his meal, he got up from his chair and moved slowly towards her. Almost like a cat moving in on its prey, in slow motion, every step calculated and every breath on hold. He brushed his fingers through her hair. A tear fell unnoticed down her cheek. “Oh, what to do with you next, Bedelia,” he said, purred almost and she gasped when his hand wrapped slowly around her neck.

The last thing Bedelia du Maurier felt was the bones in her neck break. Her body fell lifelessly on the floor next to her murderer. He looked at her sadly, as if he was suddenly regretting taking her life. And then he smirked to himself.

Bon appétit.


End file.
